


Darkness Falls

by Deans_Fetish



Series: Dark Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Bondage, Drugging, Gore, Knife Play, M/M, NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART! BE WARNED, Sex Toys, Torture, Violence, non-con/rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-29
Updated: 2009-09-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8727175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deans_Fetish/pseuds/Deans_Fetish
Summary: In hell, Dean was taught to torture. After being raised from hell, Dean has dark desires, darker than just an overwhelming lust for his brother. But, somehow in Dean's addled brain this all seems surreal, a world without ramifications. It is only after being 'woken up' that Dean realizes this is the really real world and the real Sam. ** Please Note: This is the first in a trilogy of mini-fics. The Second fiction is: Kiss the Rain. The Last in the Trilogy is: Can You Hear Me?





	

Dean stood looking down at his brother, in the darkness of the motel room. 

Hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he clenched his teeth together so hard he was in danger of breaking them.

No, he wasn't going to do it, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how often he dreamt about it, thought about it, he would not do what he longed to do since his return from hell.

Sam always thought he was having nightmares, horrible dreams about what had happened to him, flashes of horrific images flashing through his brain as he slept.

Sam had been half right. 

They were nightmares, and the images were horrific, but they were not of him, but of what he wanted to do, wanted to do to his own baby brother. 

The times that Sam had caught him staring at him with an almost predatory look in his eye, Dean had managed to change the subject, keeping Sam's attention elsewhere and not on the monster that his big brother had become, the monster that hell had created.

Dean watches as Sam rolls in his sleep, simply turning over as one does in the midst of slumber, but the movement catches Dean's eye.

Crazed green orbs laser focus on the shift and flex of muscle under taunt, sun-kissed, smooth skin.

"Dean..." his name is a slurred sleepy mumble that tumbles from his brother's lips, likely the product of a dream or nightmare, but it doesn't matter, not to the beast, the darkness within Dean's soul. 

All it hears is the fact that his brother, the object of his sick and depraved lust, has called out to him and in the blink of an eye, the darkness answers.

*

Dark lashes flutter as straight white teeth clench together against the pain in his temple.

The ooze of something wet and sticky on the side of his head alerts the hunter to the knowledge that he has been struck, even though he doesn't remember it.

The last thing Sam can remember was going to bed and that's when fear grips his heart as he sucks in a breath, forcing his eyes to open against the pain as he blinks in the darkness, trying to make out his surroundings.

Dean... Where's Dean? What happened?

Trying to move, to lift his head and search his surroundings, Sam realizes that he is bound, arms and legs to the bed, spread eagle. 

But the bed, isn't a 'bed' anymore. The mattress and box springs are gone and it's just a raised wooden platform where they use to be. 

The rough wooden surface is rough and scratchy against Sam's bare back as he struggles against the bindings. 

Licking his lips, Sam turned his head, looking over toward his brother's bed, realizing that he is still in the same motel room that he and his brother had went to sleep in.

Dean's bed is made, looking as though his brother never went to sleep in it.

"Dean!?" Sam called out, tugging again at the bindings holding him.

Dean walked out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on a towel, before tossing it back in, toward the counter.

"Dean! What the hell's going on!? Are you okay!? What happened!?" Sam asked him in a rush, not giving Dean time to answer each question before asking the next. 

Sam tugged again at the leather straps holding him, "Untie me!" Sam demanded, frowning as he watched his brother tear his gaze away from him and silently walk across the room.

Stepping over to the small table next to the window, Dean grabbed the edges, dragging it over to the bed that Sam is tied to.

"Dean, what's going on!? What happened? Demons? What -?" Sam's sentence trailed off as his gaze fell on the items that lay upon the table as Dean stopped next to the side of the bed.

Looking up at his brother, Sam shook his head, jaw clenching. "Dean?"

Dean sighed, "I want to hear you, Sammy, I really do, but if you keep nagging me, I'm going to gag you," Dean warned, his voice matter-of-fact and emotionless.

Sam frowned, struggling harder against the bindings holding him, "No," he shook his head slightly, "Don't do this, Dean."

Ignoring Sam, Dean turned at the waist, his gaze scanning the items on the table, carefully choosing one of the knives.

Taking the item in hand, Dean turned back to Sam, a small evil smile pulling at his lips as he looked down at his brother.

"You see this knife, Sammy?" Dean asked, turning the blade over and over slowly in his hand. "Sharpened it myself," he nodded, frowning as he examined it, "It could split a hair," he mused, running the pad of his thumb over the long blade sideways and smiling at the stinging pull against his own flesh.

Lowering the blade to Sam's chest, Dean slowly ran it downward, his gaze intent on the sight of the metal against his brother's flesh.

Sam looked down at the knife as the blade drug across his skin, he held his breath, holding as still as he could, swallowing hard, knowing well how sharp Dean made his knives.

Knowing without having needed Dean to tell him.

"Dean," Sam said his brother's name softly, a mere breath of air as slightly slanted champagne hazel orbs flickered up to his brother's face.

Dean jerked his wrist, slicing open his brother's chest, a small thin line near his nipple, running along it's length.

Sam gasped in a breath, his gaze darting back down to watch as the thin line of crimson ran slowly across his chest filling the paper thin cut.

Dean tsked and shook his head, "You moved, Sammy. Shouldn't have moved," Dean admonished, a smirk pulling at his lips, before he grit his teeth and moved the blade over to the opposite side, slicing downward across Sam's nipple, this cut deeper than the first. 

Sam grit his teeth, growling against the pain of the deeper wound. 

Sam's breaths panted, "Dean, please." He swallowed hard, eyes squeezing closed a moment before he opened them again, "Don't do this."

Dean turned toward the table, free hand dipping into a small bowl and grabbing a handful of a nearly clear crystallized substance.

Turning back to Sam, Dean tilted his head to the side, "That hurt, Sammy?" he asked, an evil smirk pulling at his full lips.

Sam's mouth opened, just as Dean's hand holding the crystallized substance snaked out, shoving the stuff down against the deep wound in Sam's chest.

Sam's neck arched back as he grit his teeth, a cry of pain leaving him, eyes squeezed tightly closed, hands clenched into tight fists.

Dean chuckled softly, "Salt... stings somethin' fierce, huh bro?"

Pulling his hand back from Sam's chest, Dean watched as the salt tumbled down onto the wood plank under his brother as Sam's breaths panted out, chest rising and falling with each one.

Taking a step to the side, Dean moved his attention lower on his brother's body, reaching town to pull the elastic of Sam's boxers away from his body as he slipped the knife blade underneath.

Green orbs flickered up to Sam's face, to find him watching. 

Dean grinned, "Gotta get these outta the way, don't we?" He winked before returning his attention to the offending cotton, pulling the blade through the material, effectively slicing it off Sam's body.

Once the boxers lay in tatters under Sam, his body completely exposed to his brother's sight and manipulations, Dean reached down with his free hand palming Sam's cock as he looked up at him.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this, Samm," Dean mused aloud.

Sam struggled against the bindings, grunting in pain as he moved, the cuts in his chest tearing wider, the salt burning.

"Don't - don't touch me." Sam demanded, lifting his chin slightly.

Dean shook his head, tsking. "Still so stubborn." He squeezed Sam's cock hard in his hand, clenching his teeth. "Think you're too good for me, Sammy? Huh? Is that it!?" Dean growled.

Sam groaned and gagged, head lifting off the pillow slightly, only to crash back down, eyes squeezed tightly closed.

"No," he grunted out the whisper soft word.

Dean squeezed harder, "I'm sorry? I didn't HEAR you!" he yelled.

Sam's eyes popped open, a scream tearing from his throat, "No! No! I said, _no_!"

Dean released Sam abruptly.

Sam coughed, head rolling on the pillow, eyes closing.

"Oh god..." Sam groaned softly.

Dean shook his head. "God has nothing to do with it, Sam."

Moving the blade to Sam's groin, Dean ran it slowly up the underside of Sam's flaccid cock. 

"Did you know that if I cut you here, Sammy, you can bleed to death in a matter of minutes?" Dean asked him, his gaze never leaving the blade.

Sam stilled, head lifted slightly off the pillow, gaze locked on the sight of the knife on his dick. 

Sam swallowed hard, "No," he shook his head just slightly, "don't Dean," his gaze darted up to his brother's face and back down as his face contorted into a look of anguish, "please."

Dean glanced up at his brother, the blade stilling on Sam's dick, the sharp point against the underside of the head, pressing just enough to make Sam gasp in a pained breath.

"Please?" Dean asked, a small smile pulling at his lips as he nodded, "I like that, Sammy. Good boy." he told him, pulling the blade away.

Sam released the breath he'd been holding, in relief, his head falling back against the pillow, eyes closing, only to have then pop back open lips parting as a scream tore from his lips before he clenched his teeth together, face contorted in pain as he scream/growled in pain as Dean sliced open the flesh on each side of Sam's cock.

Reaching back behind himself, Dean grabbed another handful of salt bringing it around, just as Sam's eyes opened slightly.

"No! No! Don't! Oh god, don't! Please!" Sam nearly yelled, chest heaving out his ragged breaths.

Dean tsked as he shook his head, "What did I tell you about that, Sammy?" Dean asked him, shoving his hand full of salt down against Sam's groin, wrist pivoting back and forth to grind it in.

Sam screamed, back arching, neck tilting back, eyes squeezed tightly closed, hands squeezed into tight fists, arms trembling, hands shaking.

Pulling his hand back, Dean turned toward the table, tossing down the knife as he reached for a long slender rod with a small wire sicking out of one end, the remote to which lay on the table beside it.

Picking up the rod, Dean reached for a handful of oil slicking it over the object before turning back toward Sam and reaching for his cock.

Sam lay whimpering softly, eyes squeezing closed then opening, unshed tears shining in their hazel depths, chest rising and falling hard. 

"Stop, please," he swallowed, "please Dean," Sam's face started to crumble, bottom lip trembling, "please." he begged softly, brokenly.

"Shshsh, Sammy, s'okay, I gotcha, I gotcha." Dean whispered to him, the same way he always did whenever Sam was in trouble or scared, needing his big brother.

A sob tore at Sam's throat at the sound of it coming from the monster image of his brother before him, his head turning to the side as he tore his gaze away from Dean.

A small whine tore from Sam's throat as he felt Dean run his oiled thumb around on the tip of his cock. 

Blood from the cuts around Sam's groin pooled in the wood between his legs beneath him.

Sam shook his head, still refusing to look, "Please don't." he begged softly, a single tear rolling down his cheek and across the bridge of his nose.

"Look at me, Sammy." Dean told him softly, his gaze intent on Sam's profile, even as he continued to rub small circles around on the head of Sam's dick, thumb dipping into the slit.

Sam sniffled, shaking his head slightly, "No."

Dean pressed his thumb down hard into the slit of Sam's cock, short blunt nail digging into the soft tender flesh.

Sam gasped in a breath, eyes widening before closing tight, arms jerking against the bindings holding him as he squeezed his fisted hands together to tightly that his short blunt nails cut into the palms of his hands, teeth gritted together. 

Sam's head turned toward Dean as he forced his eyes open, face contorted in pain.

Dean smiled down at him, "Much better."

"Fuck you! Go to hell!" Sam spat out, yelled the words as loud as he could with the blood loss weakening him.

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam, "Been there... thanks to you," he tilted his head to the side, "didn't like it much, Sammy. Kept thinking about how good it would be to fuck you."

Sam made a sickened face, tearing his gaze away from Dean.

"Just stop, Dean," he shook his head, "I don't want to hear anymore."

"You know what this is, Sam?" Dean went on, as if Sam hadn't said anything, holding up the narrow rod where Sam could get a good look at it.

Sam's head rolled, looking back at Dean, then up at the rod he held.

Sam swallowed hard, shaking his head. "No." he answered softly, but having a bad feeling he didn't want to know.

Dean's lips twisted into an evil smirk, "This Sammy, is a E-Stim Urethral Insert," Dean told him, moving it so that it was positioned to enter into the slit on Sam's crown, "and do you know where it goes? What it does, Sammy?" Dean asked, as he tore his gaze from Sam's face to look down, slowly sliding the metal rod into his brother's cock.

"Aauugh! No! Dean, please!" Sam begged, tugging at the restraints, his gaze locked on the sight of the metal rod slowly disappearing into his dick.

Sam sucked in air though gritted teeth, grunted and bit his lip, head rolling as he squeezed his eyes closed. "Dean, please..." his chest rose and fell heavily with each of his panted breaths.

The rod burned like fire entering his dick, the cuts that wept blood, caked in salt ached fiercely, his entire body seemed racked with pain and yet his brother, the one who he had always trusted to take care of him, to care for him. 

Ignored each and every one of his pleas, his cries of pain. Ignored the tears that fell from his eyes that Sam no longer had the strength to hold back, and now slipped unbidden down the sides of his face, into his hair.

Dean slowly eased the rod completely inside Sam's cock, causing it, once completely embedded in Sam's flaccid dick, to stand up right, oddly straight, the sight, as Sam's head slowly rolled against the pillows to look down at himself, tore a choked sound from deep in his throat.

"Shshsh, it's okay, Sammy." Dean cooed, turning at the waist, to grab the remote, flipping it on, sending harsh jolts of electricity through Sam's cock.

Sam's head tilted back, eyes wide, before quickly closing tight, hands squeezed into such tight fists that they and his arms shook, as he screamed. 

Dean reached down, his hands becoming covered in Sam's blood that blanketed his flesh, grabbing one of Sam's balls and squeezing hard as though trying to crush it.

Sam screamed more, louder if that were possible, sobs tearing from his throat, face wrecked as he wept openly, head thrashing, tugging at the restraints holding him.

"Dean! Dean, please!" Sam cried, tears spilling down the sides of his wrecked face.

Dean merely watched his brother in morbid fascination, head tilted to the side as he licked his lips, almost the way a man would who thirsted and had been shown water.

Setting the controller aside as he released Sam's ball, Dean reached for a syringe that lay on the table, already prefilled with a clear substance. 

Sam's head stilled slowly on the pillow, though he continued to weep softly, hazel eyes catching sight of Dean with the syringe in his hand.

"Do," Sam sucked in a ragged breath, "Do it, kill me. You fuckin' bastard."

Again, Dean's face remained expressionless as he turned to look down at Sam, one blood covered hand moving to cup the side of Sam's face as he leaned down over his brother, his face inches from Sam's.

"Shshsh, doin' so good, baby boy. Doin' so good," he whispered before brushing his lips across Sam's.

Sam jerked his face away, closing his eyes as he pressed his lips together. 

Sam wished for, wanted the escape of black nothingness, it would be better than this, than having the brother you loved beyond all else do these horrible things to you, all the while, emotionless as he listened to your pain.

The sharp pinch of the needle drew Sam's attention as he opened his eyes to look over, finding Dean injecting him in a bicep with whatever the clear liquid was. 

Sam drew in a shaky breath as he watched the liquid disappear into his vein.

"Why?" he asked Dean softly, "why are you doing this to me?"

Dean's green eyes flickered up from watching the syringe to meet Sam's hazel's as he quirked a brow.

"Isn't it obvious, Sammy? Because I love you," Dean responded softly before looking back down at the syringe and slowly pulling the needle from Sam's arm.

Sam turned his head, chest aching.

He had thought he had been ready for whatever Dean would tell him.

Because he secretly hated him, because he had been a burden all their lives, because of mom... dad... something like that, but he hadn't been ready for those words. 

More tears fell from Sam's eyes as he bit back a sob that tore at him, burned his throat and made his chin quiver, his bottom lip tremble.

Dean turned back toward the table, laying the empty syringe down, then turned back, focusing his attention on his brother, waiting.

Having gotten ready for bed earlier in the night even though he hadn't been able to sleep, Dean stood there now, Sam's torturer, dressed in only a black tee and boxers, watching him silently.

Sam's head rolled slowly on the pillow, eyes rolling up into his head as a low groan broke from deep in his throat before dark lashes fluttered and his eyes opened once more, gazed and unfocused.

"Dean..." he called out softly, weakly.

Dean turned, grabbing up the knife from the table, then moved to the leather straps holding Sam's legs bound to the bed, cutting them free.

Tossing the knife back onto the table, Dean crawled up onto the wooden platform, leaning over his brother, before he sat back on his heels, hands going to the waistband of his boxers to push them down his thighs.

Sam's head rolled, mind too fogged and clouded to know, understand what Dean was doing.

Moving, Dean leaned down over Sam, blanketing his form, slanting his mouth over his brothers, tongue running along Sam's bottom lip.

Sam turned his head, tried to jerk it away from Dean, only to have Dean reach up, grabbing a handful of Sam's hair to hold his head still as he shoved his tongue into his brother's mouth, moaning softly.

Dean kissed him, mapping out Sam's mouth, even as Sam gagged and tried to turn his head away, arms tugging uselessly, weakly at the bindings.

Pulling his head back slightly, Dean nipped Sam's bottom lip.

"Taste just as good as I always dreamed you would, Sammy," Dean murmured softly, hand relaxing it's grip in Sam's hair. 

Dipping his head, Dean kissed along Sam's jaw line and down his neck.

"Dean..." Sam's head rolled, "please... don't do this," Sam begged softly, the words mumbled and slurred in his drugged state.

Dean thrust against his brother, their cocks sliding together, the blood coating Sam's form making them slide and stick, the rod still lodged within Sam's cock causing pain to shoot through Sam's groin.

Sam's head tilted back, a bark of pain tearing from his throat, before he pressed his lips together, whimpers leaving him as his head thrashed slowly, eyes squeezed tightly closed. 

"No, don't... please..." Sam begged softly, breathlessly.

Dean pulled his head back, grinning down at his brother, "Love the way you sound, Sammy. Love the way you feel and taste," he lowered his head, tongue darting out to lick up the side of Sam's neck, "so beautiful." he whispered against Sam's ear, hot breath ghosting over sensitive flesh.

Sam's head rolled as he choked on a sob, tears spilling down the sides of his face.

"Gonna fuck you, Sammy," Dean whispered, "gonna finally get to fuck you so hard." 

Sam whimpered, shaking his head, "No," he turned his head, looking up at his brother as Dean drew back his head to look down at him once more, "don't do this," Sam begged him, "please."

Dean smiled, "Beg so pretty, Sammy." Dean whispered before leaning down to brush his lips across Sam's. "Shshsh, s'okay, baby boy, s'okay."

Dean reached down, hooking an arm under one of Sam's legs, pulling it up, knee bent, so his foot was flat against the wood surface, then reached over and did the same with his other leg. 

"Keep them there, Sammy, or I swear to God, I will nail them that way!" Dean growled low.

A whimpered sound tore from Sam's throat, as tears fell from his eyes, before he turned his head away from the sight of his brother's face.

Lifting himself up slightly, Dean reached down between them to pump his cock a few times before lining himself up with Sam's tight hole.

"Love you, Sammy," Dean whispered softly, "always," he murmured before thrusting hard, balls deep inside his brother.

Sam's head tilted back a scream tearing from his throat, arms shaking as he tugged weakly at the bindings, eyes squeezed tightly closed.

Dean moved inside his brother, giving him no time to adjust, no time for his torn and ripped virgin hole to get use to being filled.

He moved with a single minded purpose, chasing his release, using Sam's blood, as lubricant as he slammed into him over and over. 

"Oh god, Sammy..." Dean panted, "feel so good. So tight and hot, so perfect. Just like I knew you'd be." 

Sam wept openly, head turned to the side, eyes squeezed closed, teeth clenched together.

* 

Bobby frowned at the cellphone in the passenger seat as he drove. He'd been calling Sam and then Dean for the past two hours and nothing. 

The fact that it was still night meant very little as to why the boys wouldn't be answering their cells. 

Something was wrong, damn wrong, and Bobby wasn't about to sit around in his house and wonder what the hell was going on, he was going to go find their idjit asses and see what the hell the deal was.

*

The rape went on for what seemed like hours to Sam, but in truth, it didn't last long at all. 

Dean's lust for his brother had so long built up that he hadn't lasted more than a few minutes before he was filling Sam's ass with his hot spunk, shouting Sam's name.

Collapsing down on Sam's form, his brother's blood smeared all over his body, Dean fought to catch his breath. 

"S'good, Sammy. S'good, baby boy." Dean praised breathlessly against the skin of Sam's neck.

A sob tore from Sam's throat, shoulder's shaking with it, face wrecked.

Sniffling, Sam swallowed hard, "Please... get - get off of me." he pleaded weakly, softly.

Dean pulled his head back, eyes slowly narrowing into angry slits as he glared down at Sam.

"Never have been good enough for ya, huh Sammy!?" Dean growled, "I give you everything, I do everything for you and yet still I'm not good enough for you!" 

Dean pulled up, climbing off his brother and pulling his boxers back up, setting his clothes to rights as he stood glaring at him.

"Fine! You don't want my love, how about my hate then, you ungrateful bastard!?" Dean yelled at him, grabbing up the knife from the table.

*

Bobby pulled the old car up next to the Impala, turning off the engine with a sigh. 

Well, it seemed that the boys were here, just like they had said they would be. 

Bobby frowned looking toward the motel room window with it's pulled curtains, though there seemed to be a single light on inside.

Reaching for the car door handle, Bobby opened it and slid from behind the wheel, grabbing the rifle from the front seat as he moved.

*

Sam's wide tear-filled eyes watched as Dean stepped back up to the side of the make-shift bed.

"No," Sam shook his head, "don't do this." he pleaded, glancing down at the knife in Dean's hands, before looking back up into his brother's green eyes, "No more, please, I can't -"

Dean lowered the knife to Sam's stomach, cutting a long line downward, jaw clenched, face set in angry lines as he ignored Sam's pleas.

Sam screamed, head tilting back, eyes squeezed closed, eyes blinking rapidly against the pain.

*

Bobby's eyes widened as he stood at the door, hearing Sam's scream.

"Sam!?" Bobby called out, before throwing his body weight against the door, which didn't budge.

Dean seemed to be ignoring even Bobby's voice from outside the room, as he plunged two fingers into the wound he had made in Sam's stomach.

Sam screamed again, breaths gasping in and out, eyes rolling up into his head as blood poured from his body from the cuts, old and new.

*

Bobby stepped back, aiming the rifle at the door's lock and fired, kicking the door open and rushing inside, rifle trained steady on Dean.

"Dean!?" Bobby asked, in confusion, his gaze dropping to Sam's nearly unconscious and likely near dead form, bile rising in his throat.

Tearing his gaze from Sam, Bobby looked back at Dean, finger at the trigger, "What the hell do you think yer doin', boy!?"

Dean looked at Bobby for a long moment, blinked a few times, then slowly looked down at his blood covered hands, down at his blood covered body, then his gaze rose slightly to the form of his brother, nearly butchered to death. 

The knife fell from Dean's numb fingers, making a soft thud sound against the blood drenched motel carpet.

Dean gagged as his gaze returned to Bobby, his stomach lurched, hand, blood covered, covered in Sam's blood, rose to cover Dean's mouth, a second before he turned, running for the bathroom, even as he started to vomit before he reached it. 

Bobby slowly lowered the rifle, his eyes intent on Dean's disappearing form, before they returned to Sam, or what was left of Sam.

Holy hell...

Hurrying over to the younger Winchester, Bobby started to try to patch him up as best he could.


End file.
